


Consent

by Viridian5



Category: Hard Core Logo
Genre: Dark fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-10-14
Updated: 2000-10-14
Packaged: 2017-10-02 07:48:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viridian5/pseuds/Viridian5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joe tries to take what he wants, but it's no good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Consent

**Author's Note:**

> It's a story about That Night, so you know what that means.

I have this fantasy sometimes, and of course it stars Billy. Fucker. He's chained to a bed and gagged, completely helpless. Can't move or talk or complain. All mine.

And that's as far as it goes. Fantasy hits a dead stop at that. Fucking pathetic, right? Because, unfortunately for my peace of mind, much as that sight gets me hot, Billy's no fun if he can't move, talk, fight, and surrender. No fun if he can't say no and no and no until I finally make him say yes. He's not Billy.

I know it for a fact, because I had something like that fantasy once and didn't enjoy it at all. And following through on it made me lose him.

We were both stoned, but he was passed out dead on the couch, face down, fucking taunting me. Yeah, taunting me, because his ass was up in the air a bit, with the waistband of his too-large jeans pulled down a little to show off the pale skin of his back. You knew you were whipped when a peek at somebody's _back_ makes you hard enough to cut diamond.

All I could think then was that the bastard was never going to give me a piece of his ass. He said that if he couldn't fuck me, I couldn't fuck him. He had his pride, even if I did know how much he wanted me to do him. And no matter how much I wanted his ass, no way in hell was I going to let him fuck me to get it. Let him think he had that much power over me?

Here I had a chance at him. He mumbled as I unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down but didn't resist. I stroked my hand over his skin. Mine. Beautiful, like he'd been laid out on a fucking platter for me. I wanted to dive right in, but I knew I had to loosen him up a bit first. It wasn't like I had a needle-sized dick, and I wasn't going to fucking _rape_ him.

I spat until I had one finger slick and slid in. No reaction. No reaction? He just kept lying there, slack and loose, out to lunch. He should have been gripping me, moving, making noise. Something. Two fingers, same. Three fingers, same. What the fuck did that cunt dealer cut our hits with, rat poison? It was freaking me out.

No way he could sleep through me fucking him, though. I used more spit to slick up my dick, then thrust in. No resistance, no movement, no sound. "Billy, you cunt, wake the fuck up!" When I pulled out and thrust in again, I still didn't get any joy, like I was fucking a side of beef.

Usually I played Billy like an instrument, my favorite one. I made him writhe and moan. I teased him until his mouth started to say the yes that the rest of his body had been telling me for ages. Making him admit he wanted it had to be one of great thrills out there.

I knew what fucking him should have been like. He should have been complaining in between his moans, taunting me, telling me how far he'd allow me to go. I'd be blowing his fucking mind the whole time, winning ground from him, pushing further and further. His ass should have felt tight, resisting me, squeezing my dick all the way. He should have been fighting me, making me work for it, until he started to really enjoy it. Then he'd give me the ride of my life.

That was what it'd be like if Billy were _home_. Instead I felt like Billy was wandering the underworld while I fucked his corpse.

It fucking frightened the hell out of me, and I went soft. Pulled out, cleaned up, and straightened Billy up.

Of course he knew the next day when he regained consciousness. I didn't have a needle dick. Him flushing my stash had been fucking uncool, but the rage he'd gone into had almost made it worth it. It took a lot to get Mr. Zen, who usually fought cold and passive-aggressive, to fly into a hot, screaming rage. Well worth the admission, let me tell you.

Usually.

That hot, screaming rage cost a hell of a lot more than I expected, because I ended up losing him over that night. I didn't even fucking enjoy it, and I lost him for it. He'd robbed me.

But my little lie about Bucky got Billy back, and Jennifur dumping him from their line-up will help me keep him almost as good as chaining him to my side would. He wasn't going to tell me about Jennifur. I could just see him figuring that he'd quietly go back to LA at the end of our tour, and I wouldn't hear until he was far, far away. John--bless his schizophrenic, freaking-out ass--blew that plan sky high, and now I'm working Billy for everything I'm worth. Successfully too.

Amazing how much better I look to him after his little rock star bubble broke.

I fucking _have_ him, and I'm wearing him down more every day. He agreed to the two of us together making music again. You and me, you and me. Defended my lie about Bucky to that little cunt at the band house. He's putting out again. Mine again.

He finishes the interview, we play this last date, then we leave the flaming wreckage of this reunion tour behind to do the you and me thing. New start with everything the way it should be, the way it always should have been. I can't fucking wait.

He's shit out of options, _and_ he's saying yes. I'm having my Billy and fucking eating him.

I'm living the dream, baby.

 

### End


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